


... and out the other side

by orphan_account



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Addiction, Arthur is BabaG, Cough Syrup, Drug Use, Eames is Macklemore, Inspired by Music, M/M, Only less pregnant, Otherside by Macklemore, Relapse, purple rain - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-03
Updated: 2015-03-03
Packaged: 2018-03-16 03:46:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3473264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eames relapses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	... and out the other side

"What's the worst part?" Arthur asks, carding his fingers lightly through Eames' hair.

He's silent for a long time and it's moments after Arthur resigns himself to not getting an answer before he speaks. His voice is low and tired and full of so much numb pain Arthur can't help but tighten his arms around his shoulders, trying to protect him from harm already done, dealt by himself. "The worst part," he murmurs in that broken voice, "is believing that if you make it through withdrawal, you're out for good."

Arthur brings his chin down to tuck over Eames' shoulder, eyes closed against the mess of styrofoam cups neither have bothered to tidy. He has nothing to say, so he presses his tight lips against the bare, tattooed skin, neither apology nor forgiveness, but reassurance. _I thought you would die,_ he thinks about saying. _I thought you'd given up,_ he wants to whisper. _I thought you'd abandoned me and I was so scared and so angry and you're so infinitely dumb, but we'll face this together,_ he wishes he could murmur into his skin so it would stick, like so many cursive letters inked over his heart. He doesn't. He can't bring himself to.

Eames' head rolls back onto his shoulder and he wonders if the pained sigh which escapes past Arthur's ear is such from the syrup detoxing from his system or a reciprocal to everything the tight brush of Arthur's lips against his skin tries to say.

He lets himself melt a little, like the ice left sitting in the syrup. He relaxes his mouth but doesn't dare open his eyes to the carnage. He presses his lips to Eames' neck and mouths words against his skin. _We'll make it better,_ he leaves, emblazoned in the memory of a touch. But he doesn't say it. He doesn't dare give voice to it.

Perhaps, in a few hours, or maybe days. But not just yet. For now, he cradles a man bigger than him in every way but spirit against his chest and soothes him with words he doesn't dare speak.

**Author's Note:**

> Listen to Otherside right now. I mean it.


End file.
